"He died in the war, Paul. You weren't there but they ran a autopsy and they found a bullet in his fucking heart. People can't turn once their hearts aren't capable."

Paul glared at him. "I know that! But... I looked at his coffin again and it was... It was empty, George."

His eyes widened. "Empty?"

Paul nodded. "There were scratch marks all over the lid, as if he wanted to get out."

"Paul... Did you---"

"Turn him? No! But I would've, George." Paul buried his face in his hands. "It's been so long and I miss him. I-I need to see him, George."

"Go."

He looked up. "What?"

George bit the inside of his cheek. "Go and find him. I'll be alright here, if that's what your stressed about. I'm half your age, Paul. I can manage."

Paul broke into a grin. "Oh thank you, George!" He enveloped him into a bone-crushing hug. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

Not too soon, I hope. He thought as he hugged back.